Divine Retribution, Redux
by Irish Ghost
Summary: Ariel, sister of the right hand of God. Third archangel ever created, returns to Heaven at last from exile. Her role in the upcoming Apocalypse will shape the fate of the Winchesters for ever. But then, destiny can go suck it, right Dean? From Season 4 onwards, OFC.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hi, everyone! It's been a long time since I've posted anything on this site. I shan't bore you with the details of working full time as a nurse, losing inspiration multiple times, moving more than once, and finally settling enough to pick up my words, as it were.**

**To ease myself in, I'm re-writing my first Supernatural story. I wrote those over a decade ago, and my writing has improved by leaps and bounds. I can't help but cringe when I read those stories, but they are what they are. I'm not deleting them from my profile, but now these new stories shall take their place. With a hell of a lot more lore to work with, this is hopefully the start of something great.**

**Let me know what you all think of it, please. I accept comments and critique, but have good arguments for your complaints. **

**With that, I give you, "Divine Retribution, Redux."**

*****DRR*****

What a day, to be honest. As she walked the streets of Brooklyn, dodging the cracks and the crevices of the ancient streets, she felt the blood pumping within her and within the ground below. So many people died to create this place, this small section of this insignificant world. And she was supposed to keep an eye on them all.

Ariel Godson shook her head. To the casual observer, she looked to be about fifty years old with the air of powerful old blood hanging about it. She didn't claim any connection to the New York royalty, but she still acted like them. She was infinitely more powerful than any of the mud monkeys around her.

She was tired of this. Year after year, decade after century, she held up the pretence. What faith she had once was no longer worth protecting. She was simply to serve, to watch over these specks of humanity and slime-covered dregs of their society. She was to protect them, as per her orders.

She would never return home. She held onto that promise for so long, a father's words into the suffering ears of a traumatized daughter, a lie to ease his conscience and to aid her healing. A bandage to cover the deeper wound. She would return home, he said, when he called her again, when her penance was complete.

Her penance… like she done something wrong that day. Like she didn't fight as hardest as physically and emotionally possible to resist what had been done to her over those years. They seemed like forever ago, but the scars remained. How could they not, when he dropped that particular bombshell on her at her lowest point.

Ariel shook her head, feeling the shadowy presence inside of her. That familiar presence that strengthened her and wrought steel to her spine. She was the only reason that Ariel had not yet fallen to her knees, had given up time and time again.

"Dr. Godson!" A long-timer nurse called her out as she walked through the doors of New York Mercy Hospital, interrupting her reverie. "Why are you in today? You're not on call."

Among the doctors, Ariel Godson was the one that they looked to for answers. She was always there with a laugh and a smile, to kick your butt if you were out of line, and a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen to your troubles. She had worked here in Mercy's ER department for thirty-five years. She was the person to go to for anything, from advice to assistance to mentoring.

She didn't need to do it, after all. However, what Ariel despised the most (besides the mud monkeys that annoyed her) was boredom. At least here, pretending to be one of them, she could not focus on the endless time that she had to kill.

"It's all right, Daphne. I need to work. The chief knows not to pay on the days I come in. " That was always the explanation that she ever gave whenever she came in for extra shifts, which was almost every day. Among her human colleagues, she was the eccentric one, working twelve to thirty-six hour shifts and then coming back within hours to do it all over again. She even worked pro bono hours just to help the hospital out. Still, she worked with a smile in her heart and an drive that most marathon runners could envy. That was the mask, at least.

"Okay, then. We've got a trauma coming in: MVA with four vics, one major. ETA's ten minutes." When the call came out, Ariel ran down the hall to the locker room. Making sure that the door was locked behind her, she materialized into her black sneakers and the sea-green scrubs, hospital issue. She double-checked the pant leg pockets to make sure that her tools (needed for the deception, for who could explain a human who could heal all with a simple touch of her hand) were there and that the stethoscope was draped properly around her neck.

She had seven minutes before the trauma came in as she checked the watch on her right wrist. "Daphne, do we have the trauma rooms open and stocked?"

"Yes, Doc. It's been quiet, so far." She looked through the twenty-two charts on the desk. Indeed, it had been quiet.

"She chuckled as she ran out to meet the ambulances, the sirens roaring nearer and nearer. "Never say 'never', Daphne."

"What you got for me?" She helped to pull the stretcher out and began her visual assessment. The paramedic smiled slightly at the sight of the ever-working doctor before rattling off the bullet.

"MVA vic, 12 year old male, contusions to chest and head lac to frontal lobe, but he's alert and aware. Vitals stable. BP 104/74, resps 20 and regular, pulse 78 and going strong." The paramedic looked down at the boy for a moment as he asked after his mother. "The major's in the ambulance behind us."

Okay. Peter!" She yelled to one of the residents coming outside with a determinedly grim look on his face. "Get him to Exam Two. Need a c-spine, chest x-ray. Make sure that his airway is secured and that he won't crash in the next twenty minutes. Run the call." Turning back to the boy, she leaned down and talked to him. "Your mom's coming in, son. Don't worry." When the attending came and took the little boy away, she turned back to the major. She got out of the way as the paramedic from the bus continued CPR on the ground.

"MVA major, 4 year old female, LOC when we got there; contusions on chest; broken right radius-ulna, and an open right tib-fib. Splinted in field. Severe blood loss from glass in face and arm; probable nicked brachial, femoral, and radial arteries. Heart stopped two minutes ago, one of epi in the field, no response. Strung a line, 200 ccs bolus of normal saline."

"Okay!" She took the stretcher and ran through the doors of the ER. "Get her to Trauma One!" She could sense three nurses and another attending following her, but her mind was on the little child beside her. Ariel felt the life force draining from her. With all of her skills, she would not let this one die on her, not a little girl.

"On my count! One, two, three!" The nurses and the attending helped her to lift the little girl off the stretcher and onto the gurney, and then all of them went into motion. "All right, tube her and continue CPR! Let's get an airway in her. Dr. Samuels, get that bleeding stopped. She needs every drop! I want monitors and trauma panels drawn! Let's get her warm and back!"

When she was in control of a trauma, Dr. Godson morphed from a kind woman to a staff sergeant, her voice strident and intimidating enough to make the most experienced drug dealers and gangsters lose their bowels. She listened to everything around her, all of the voices and noises and trauma, and broke through the chaos with a single word.

Uriel, one of her younger brothers, would shake his head at her for even trying to save the "mud monkeys", as he referred to humans. To her, these humans were once her Father's art, his beloved. Now, they were just a way for her to pass the day. She did her damnedest, but she refused to lose any sleep if she lost one.

"Got a rhythm! Sinus brady, pulse 45 and strong at carotid." There was a sigh of relief as the little girl opened her eyes. Elizabeth looked at her, before the girl closed her eyes again and the monitor beeped.

"Doc, stats are dropping! She's bleeding from somewhere!"

"Cross-clamp her femoral artery now! Be careful with that fracture!" Taking a look at the kid and the bruised abdomen that wasn't there before, she yelled again, "Ruptured spleen! Call the OR! Tell them we're coming up hot!" The attending rushed to call the surgeons, but the child flat-lined again./

This child was going to die, no matter when the labs came in or how fast the surgical team could get to her. She had no choice. As she yelled at the attending to restart CPR and for the nurses to prep the crash cart, Ariel accessed her powers (she used it so rarely these days, relying instead on the knowledge that she had gained over her service) and channelled it to her palm. It felt like warm water lapping against her hand, like the waves of the ocean that she had seen before.

She just touched the child lightly on the forehead, pretending to look at the glass embedded in her face. When she let her powers flood through the child, she held her breath until she felt the girl's life force increase. There was a beep on the monitor, and the nurses' voices came back into her hearing with a muffled update.

She could not pay them attention, instead just nodding. After that, everything blacked out as she felt herself hit the floor.

***DRR***

"Dr. Godson!" Someone was thrumming their knuckles against her sternum, trying to get her to respond. "Dr. Godson!" Her eyes hurt to open, but she forced them to anyway.

"Wha... what happened?" She took Peter's hand to stand up on unsteady feet, mindless of the blood on her scrubs and gloves. The trauma room was empty of everyone; where were the nurses? More importantly, where was the child?

"You blacked out, Doc, for a moment. You didn't stop breathing and your stats were normal, so Dr. Samuels called me in to help deal with the little girl first. I keep telling you to cut back on those pro-bono shifts, get some sleep like normal people do."

She raised her eyebrow at the resident, talking to her like one of his mates. "How's the girl?" She looked around the empty trauma room./

"She's up in Surgery right now. Docs said she's gonna pull through."

"Good." She raised her hand to stop his tirade when she began to walk. "The mother's going to have questions about her children, and I gotta answer those first." She stripped off her gloves and shook her head again. "But first, I need some coffee."

Rubbing the back of her neck as she sipped at her coffee at the main desk, Ariel read over the records in front of her. From the bystander's reports to the police officers on scene, the mother and her three children were driving through an intersection when a driver t-boned his car into them on the passenger side. The driver at fault for causing the accident was uninjured, but his blood alcohol level was through the roof. He would be spending the night in the drunk tank before being charged with four counts of attempted vehicular manslaughter and another charge of driving under the influence. The mother had suffered a broken leg and lacerations to her face and hands. The two sons were similarly injured, only with broken arms or concussions into the mix. The daughter was the worst injured.

Sighing, she stood up and slipped on her white coat. Time to talk to some worried family. As she opened the door that roomed the mother, she noted the worried father and an older son, probably twenty-three years old, guarding their family matriarch.

"Ms. Newman?" She pulled a chair over to the mother's bed. She looked over to the father and brother. "Are you family?"

"I'm her husband. Where's my children?" He placed his hand on her shoulder.

"I'm Dr. Godson. I looked after your daughter. Now, your sons are stable. Your youngest has some cuts on his face and arms, and he's been asking for you. Your fourteen-year-old has a broken arm and a concussion, but he's coming out of it."

"What about Sarah?" This time, it was the son asking the question.

Ariel nodded. "Your daughter was seriously injured. She came in with her heart stopped, a broken arm and a broken leg, as well as some nicked arteries." She always served it straight to the families: better for them to know the truth than to sugar-coat it for them. "She's up in Surgery right now. Your daughter's a fighter, Ms. Newman." She stood up and looked at the family. "You can visit your sons right now; they're in the next room over. We'll give you an update as soon as we have more to know."

"Thank you, Dr. Godson." Mr. Newman shook her hand, tears falling down his face. She nodded to them all, before leaving them alone and racing up the stairs to the OR suites. The charge nurse knew immediately when she saw her bloody scrubs who she was here for. "The Newman girl's in Theatre Four. They got everyone working on her right now."

"Thanks, Nancy!" Ariel hung her coat up and switched into clean scrubs. Scrubbing her hands and slipping a mask on, she slipped into the busy room.

Like Nancy had told her, the room was full of people. Dr. Whitten and Joseph Isaacs were working on reducing the leg fracture. Dr. Alexander was suturing up her side. There were scrub nurses working with all of them, passing them tools and making sure that all was working well. The anesthesiologist stood up the machine and kept track of her vitals.

"Ah, Dr. Godson!" Dr. Alexander looked over his shoulder to her and shook his head. "Why are you interrupting us?"

"Observing this time. So, how is she?" She looked over at the pale girl's face.

"She's going to make it. The arteries were sutured first. Her spleen's removed, but she's healthy enough for it not to be a concern right now. All the glass's out, the wounds clean." He sighed for a moment. "She was hemorrhaging internally from a slight laceration to her inferior vena cava, but it was sutured up. She went through only two units before all the bleeding was under control."

"He pointed with his chin to the two doctors. "Whitten heard about the case and got right in with Isaacs at his side. They finished fixating the arm, and they're almost done their work on the leg. Right, Thomas?"

Dr. Whitten talked without taking his eyes from the drill in his hand. "Another screw, and we'll be done. She'll be in casts for at least two months, but she'll walk without a limp and use this arm without any problem with some physiotherapy afterwards."

Joseph Isaacs looked up at Dr. Godson with a weary smile on his face. He was an orthopedic surgical resident under Dr. Whitten, and he was under the best surgeon in Mercy Hospital. "Nice to see you, Doctor."

"You too, Joseph." She walked over and took a look at his work on suturing the arm. "Your work's improving. You using the pigskin?"

"No. Doctor Whitten has me into more surgeries, and I observe while suture."

"Less yakking, more sewing, Isaacs." Dr. Whitten barked as he handed the drill off the field. "Maybe if you finish up without fawning over ER's docs, I'll let you assist in the hip replacement tomorrow beyond suturing. That is, if you can handle it?" Without another word, they all got back to work.

Ariel smiled and left the room, stripping off her gear and getting back into her coat. She headed back down to the ER. She had a promise to keep, after all.

***DR***

Dr. Godson watched the family cry with joy as she told them about little Sarah's progress. The boys were with their mother right now, and she called for some porters to bring them up to Recovery for them to see their daughter when the nurses deemed it ready. All in all, it was a good start to the day.

Well, it would have been. The chief shook his head at her and told her to go home. Fainting like that was not acceptable. Besides, it was her damn day off. Get out of here, he said. Go see the city, take in the sights. Read a damn book.

Waving her hands in defeat, she headed into the locker room and saw Peter studying over one of the health records. "Peter, I'll see you on Friday. Be ready for me to ride your ass for questioning me." She took a look at him, and saw him almost cry out in unfairness. "I know my limits, and I've been working this job longer than you've been alive. You're only a first-year resident, and the first lesson that you're going to learn is that those with more experience than you are here to teach you, not for you to poke fun at. It's fine outside of work, but not after an emergency like that."

She heard the door slam as he left in an undignified huff. She just shook her head. The door opened again and Dr. Samuels came through. He was an attending here for the last two years, having completed his residency under her. "What did you say to Collins?" He asked as he poured himself coffee.

He told me how to do my job, John. Told me to cut back on working and narced on me to the chief." She turned and looked at him. "I didn't eat breakfast today. My blood sugar was low and I was dehydrated. I don't need a first-year telling me what to do."

"Ariel, he's young. Give him a break." He held a hand up. "Still, you're right."

She closed her locker and slipped into her jacket. "I'm going home. I'll see you in a couple of days."


	2. Chapter 2

John left before she did, leaving her alone in the quiet for once. Ariel took a few minutes to get herself ready to go home. It was going through the motions for the sake of what was left of her sanity. She could have easily used her powers to summon all that she needed to her hands. But she didn't want to. She needed to unwind from the trauma. It was another mud monkey saved, but each took a toll on her.

Her nature was torn in two, from six thousand years of life. On the one hand, who gave a damn about the mud monkeys that ruined this paradise. They would die, one way or another, while she watched and did what she had to to continue this service of penance. On the other hand, if she truly believed the conditions of this 'penance' of hers, then another life saved was a drop in the well of the debt she owed her father and his generals.

Funny: she owed them. She never expected for any of that to happen, but she owed them for her quote-on-quote 'failures'. For her 'salvation'. Fuck them all. They had no idea what she was capable of, what she had done to survive those countless years.

At one point, Ariel looked into the mirror. This vessel was the most recent in a line of vessels that she had chosen for the four thousand years that she had served the generals. Her brown hair was combed back off her face and cut short to frame her oval gaunt face. Some grey hair grew in flecks throughout her hair, a necessary part of her disguise. Her vessel was aging again. It might not last another five years at this rate. Icy blue eyes looked back at her, ringed with shadows as part of her vessel's deterioration. Small lips opened slightly to reveal straight white teeth.

Shaking her head, she checked her pockets once last time and walked out of the hospital via the ambulance bay. For two in the afternoon in the middle of the week, it was chaos on the roads. She never drove around, instead choosing to walk around to all the places that she needed to get. Why bother with cars and pollution, when her vessel had a functional set of feet to use. Besides, the small apartment that she kept was just a twenty minute walk down the street.

Ariel closed the apartment door when a breeze ran over her neck. She looked over: the window was still open. She just shrugged and looked around. It was sparse, uncomfortably so to the eyes of any of the mortals around her. A small mat on the floor. An unused kitchen, cleaned once a week for the sake of a routine. No furniture, no food. No books. This place was simply for her rest. She didn't require extraneous belongings that she would need to give up when she would undoubtedly leave once her time was up here. She didn't need food or water. What benefits would it provide her, except to stoke those memories that she kept buried?

Sometimes, she indulged. Fruit and vegetables, mostly. They tasted so good, so sweet and clean. Alcohol, too, was awesome. She could have so much and not get inhibited by the alcohol. Gin and tonic seemed to be acceptable for a vessel of her supposed status. Apparently, women of a certain class don't shotgun beer and shots as she did thirty years ago. It helped her to blend in around her. People didn't seem to trust a woman that didn't eat or drink. With the excuse of low blood sugar today, someone tossed her a candy bar in the locker room. She promptly threw it out: far too sweet for her tastes.

Mostly, she needed nothing. Oh, the wants were endless. But this was meant to be punishment. Even though she hadn't interacted with any of her siblings in almost two millennia, she knew they were watching. Watching and reporting on her every move, making sure that she stayed within the confines of her sentence.

She scoffed for a moment as she sat down on the mat below the window, thinking about her younger brothers and sisters for the first time in a number of years. Humans thought that her kind would fly down from the skies with a prayer to help them in their hour of temptation or need. Well, some were like that. A few were like her, gifted with the powers to heal. Gabriel was their Father's messenger, or at least, he was before he disappeared. The majority of them, like Castiel and Uriel, were the warriors, who served under... him. Michael, her elder brother and the first angel ever created.

He was the general, the leader of all of the angelic missions. Not one angel had seen or heard from Father since the Fall. Michael had first and last say on everything that happened at the Citadel. He was the one that... was 'saved' her still the right term? Or was 'punished' better? Regardless, he was still one of two angels that originally held superior rank over her. Now, Ariel had been away for so long, rank was a little hazy. Still, she knew that Michael was in charge of the decision to keep her here, to remind her of everything that happened to her.

She had lovingly devoted herself in the service of her Father for all her life; she had no other choice. Being born an angel (if you wanted to get technical, she was the third archangel ever created and the first female of their kind), she rose through the ranks until she was considered to be the right hand of her brother. Where he was the sword of God, she was the healing power of God. When people called and petitioned for healing, their Father would send her to help the humans. But she would be lying if she had told anyone that she didn't miss Michael.

Michael... her beloved brother. He also brought back painful memories of her other brother... Ariel shook her head. She tried so hard not to think of him, but every time that she thought of her incarceration, she thought of his as well.

Breathing to chase away the tears, she knocked her head against the wall to bring herself back to reality. She had been away from home for so long without any chance of a respite. She was most likely never going to see the Citadel again. She laughed at herself. Her Father certainly held all the cards when it came to her, but she never expected to learn what he told her right before the Fall. That she was... no, she refused to think about it.

The shadowy presence at the back of her mind made itself known. It felt like a comfort, an old friend. It had been with her for a long time, tamped down and secured. Imagine having a presence locked away that you wish to access, to be a part of you. But, if you did, you would unleash your darker side, the worst parts of your self brought into the world. For Ariel, it was impossible no matter how much she wanted to. The punishment would be too great.

When Michael left her in this place, he told her that she would be completely removed from the Citadel and its capabilities, including the ability to talk to him directly. He said he would have his soldiers check on her from time to time, and to check on her progress. If they noticed any unusual use of powers, they would come to check on her. Early on, Ariel found out that it meant any use of her powers outside of changing vessels. That mean that, soon, one of the warriors would knock on her door and demand an explanation worthy of Michael's consideration to not end up on the Table.

She was so lost in her mind, that she did not hear the door open, nor the footsteps toward her that stopped two feet behind her. She did, however, hear the voice. "Ariel." That single word, spoken with a voice so familiar, caused tears nearly to come to Ariel's eyes as she turned to gaze up at him from the mat.

Castiel stood in front of her, as stoic as ever. He had chosen the vessel of a tax accountant, but Ariel could see through that to his true form. His wings, pure white for the moment, were tucked neatly behind his back. His black hair and blue eyes shone stoically. It was no secret that he was meant to be her mate, a long time ago. Her Father had arranged it when they were both younger, and they had learned to love each other.

However, when she was rescued, the love was missing from his face. There was only disgust and disdain from him, like so many of her siblings. Their arrangement had been cancelled for the sake of the bloodlines. She was too impure, not strong enough. There would be no guarantee of a good match, according to the Council.

Ariel rose slowly, standing before him. She wiped away the tears and stared at him. "Castiel." She held her hands behind her back, hiding the tremor. "I assume you are here on Michael's behalf."

Castiel tilted his head. "Yes. Michael has deemed the terms of your service complete. Your penance is over, pending a visit before the Council."

Ariel didn't know what to do. The words weren't making sense. Her mind blanked. "My... penance is... over?" She blinked over and over. Her knees started to feel weak.

Castiel didn't notice any of this. In a casual tone, he reached into his pocket. "I have been ordered to give you these. You are to wear them until the Council comes together for your case."

She looked down to his hands, and ice began to run down her spine. Five pieces of leather, simply etched with multiple Enochian sigils. Two sets of shackles and a collar, meant to restraint her powers. Essentially, she would be trapped in her vessel with no powers. She wanted to laugh unbearably. They must be so frightened of her, what she was able to do.

With shaky hands, Ariel grabbed the collar and secured it to her neck. The shadowy presence immediately shrunk back to the deepest part of her mind. Immediately, she felt weaker. Her Grace were just out of her grasp. Pain filled her from the vessel's deterioration. Her knees gave out and she fell to the floor. Gasping, she had no choice but to offer her wrists. "Do it!"

Castiel secured the shackles to her wrists, each little knot cutting off more and more of her Grace. They worked together to secure the shackles to her ankles. Ariel gasped and cried at the sudden loss of it all. She was so weak, she could barely stand. She wanted her friend. She wanted to go away. Make it stop, make it stop! God, she was going insane! This was true punishment! What had she done to deserve this?

She didn't notice that Castiel knelt next to her. She did hear his voice. "Ariel. You have deserved so much punishment for what you did during your Fall. But, your punishment is over. You're coming home. Now, stand up and face me."

Ariel wanted to stab the righteous tone of voice out of her ears. She wanted to stay curled up on the floor, wanted to die. She made no movement from the floor. All she did was breathe, trying to get the pain under control.

Castiel reached out a hand. "Ariel, it is time to come home."

Ariel glared up at him. "Give me a minute." It took everything she had to stand once more and grab his hand.

A light slowly enveloped both of them, filling them with warmth. Ariel closed her eyes, and let the vertigo take over as they catapulted through the ceiling and into the sky. The mist of the clouds stuck to the face of her vessel. It felt like the trip took five minutes as they zoomed through thousands of miles of sky, wind, and cloud to come... home...


	3. Chapter 3

For a moment, it was dark behind her eyes. There was nothing except the dark, the pain, and the hatred. Ariel hated being imprisoned like this. Her Grace out of her control, her friend barred from her. She was nothing, just a mortal in the home of the angels. She wanted to collapse to the ground, and if it were not for Castiel's grip on her, she would have done so gladly.

It took her a few minutes to slowly open her eyes. The light was too bright, her eyes couldn't adjust the sterility of it all. She ran back to the dark, trying to get her vessel to cooperate once more. As she slowly cracked open her eyelids, the light had dulled just enough to accommodate her.

She heard the voices around her, and turned to look. Up and down the halls of the Citadel, angels began to peer down at her. A group had gathered around Castiel and herself, staring at her and whispering as if she were not there to hear. Some were frightened, some were wondering of her presence. Others still wanted to know why a traitor like her was allowed back in the ranks.

Ariel wanted to growl at them all. She was not a spectacle for their amusement. She would not go back like a prisoner before the generals and the archangels. She was one of the most powerful beings in the Heavens, if not for these damned pieces of sigiled leather.

"Hester, Inias." Two angels stepped forward. "Escort her to the Council. They are expecting her. I need to see to the rest of the garrison." Castiel let her fall to the ground, her legs giving out before her brothers and sisters. Luckily, she managed to lock her arms to prevent a face plant before the garrisons. Humiliation coloured her face as she tried to control her hatred. Damned little sanctimonious prick.

Ariel saw two sets of shoes before her. "Get up, traitor." Ah, Hester. Arrogant little toe rag, Ariel could have destroyed her with a single snap if she had access to her Grace. But now, she had nothing.

Inias snapped at her. "Hester, that's enough!" He knelt before Ariel, lifting her head up. "Ariel, I will help you. Come, they are waiting." He stood and offered her his hand.

Ariel breathed slowly, gathering her strength. "Thank you, brother." A gasp came from Inias as she nodded. Reaching out, he helped her to stand, bracing her against him as Hester led the way.

Some part of Ariel wanted to revel in the warmth of the light around her. She wanted to dance like a youngling again, drunk on life's ecstasy, to embrace the reality. She was home, something that she had wished to happen for thousand of years. She was back with her family, soon to see her brothers.

The larger part of her was filled with dread. Her penance might be over, according to Castiel, but her crimes would never be forgiven. Hester was one of many that knew how many of her kind she had slaughtered in her Fall. She wore the marks easily enough. She knew the names of them all, would never forget them. Something cataclysmic must be happening if the Council summoned _her_. She had been out of commission for so long, everything had probably changed.

Slowly but truly, Inias guided Ariel behind Hester down the hallways. The whisperings and the staring haunted her as more and more angels followed them. It wasn't every day that an archangel was summoned before the Council, let alone one that had been on the earth for four thousand years.

Some of the older angels, the warriors from the Battle of Eden, came out into the hall. Of course, Ariel nodded to herself. They were nearing the barracks. This was Gadreel's unit, but she couldn't see him. Maybe he was on the Council now?

Ephraim came around the corner, and held a hand out to stop them. Ariel's heart broke. She was once his leader, the leader of the Rit Zhen. "Ephraim, please."

The fury writ on his face was too much to bear. Inias stepped forward, but Ephraim's punch came too quickly for anyone to stop him. Ariel felt her jaw crack from the force, throwing her against the wall despite Inias' best efforts.

"Do you remember them, Ariel? Any of them?" Ephraim's voice was quiet, but it echoed in the hall. "Any of the hundreds of your family that you slaughtered?" His fists curled at his side.

Ariel spat out the blood, glaring at Ephraim. "I... remember... all... of... them." Her words were stilted thanks to the broken jaw. She didn't say anymore. She didn't owe Ephraim an explanation. Only the Council.

"Ephraim!" A voice thundered from further up the hall. Ariel snapped her head up at the familiar tone. The strident footsteps as he came nearer were like a sword being beaten on an anvil. The all black suit was crisp and almost formal as he stopped ahead of the group.

"Raphael." Ephraim bowed his head, hiding his bloodied knuckles behind his back.

"I was unaware that you were promoted to the Council, brother. Why else would you be stopping Ariel prior to her engagement with us?" His deep voice was calm, but everyone could feel the fury edging it.

"Raphael, please. Why is she back?" Ephraim looked like he wanted to scream, but he kept his composure.

"When the Council decides to share that information, you will know. Until then, you are not to stop our appointments." Raphael turned his dark gaze to Ariel. Without a word, he blinked his eyes and fixed her jaw. Ariel couldn't help but groan from the pain. "Hester, Inias. Your services are no longer required. Return to the garrison. I will escort her from here." He looked behind her to the crowd gathered there. "The rest of you have jobs to finish, don't you?" The scurrying behind her almost made Ariel laugh.

For a few minutes, they just stood in the hallway. Ariel didn't know what to say as she leaned against the wall. Raphael was their brother's right hand, the fourth of the archangels. They used to be closed, before the Fall. They were once a tandem team, always watching each other's backs. He was one of the few that didn't judge her when she was rescued.

"Ariel." Raphael reached out to her and touched the leather around her neck. He looked down, saw the same at her wrists and ankles. Ariel didn't know Raphael's face anymore, couldn't read his emotions. A twitch of an eyebrow, the purse of a lip. What was going through his mind, now?

He shook his head. "Come with me." He made to walk away, but Ariel reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Raphael." Ariel wanted to say something, anything. All of the words pulsated in her brain, trying to fight to the surface.

"The Council is waiting, Ariel." Raphael turned his hand in her grip, so that he could hold her arm in support. When she was ready and able, they walked slowly to the double doors at the end of the hallway.

"Who's on the Council now, Raphael?" Ariel wanted to know who would be asking the questions. How hard of a case would need to be made before she could get these goddamned shackles off.

"Michael, of course. Myself. Zachariah keeps trying to find a way in, but he's too sycophantic for its purpose. Virgil, although he won't be coming to this meeting. Naomi attends when she isn't busy." Raphael looked forward and away. "Ephraim was offered, but he refused. Although, I believe that he is now regretting that choice with your presence here."

Ariel's heart sank to her ankles. Well, this was going to be a tough crowd. "I understand."

They stopped before the door. Raphael lowered his arm, gently letting go of Ariel. "It is time, sister." He knocked on the door once, and then pushed through. Ariel was in lock-step with him, pushing herself forward.

Didn't this used to be a library? Ariel looked around. One of Father's many libraries, with tomes no angel was allowed to read. Well, now it was a war room. Maps and books were strewn on the giant table in the middle of the room. A world's map on the wall was covered in pins and tacks, in patterns Ariel could not understand. In front of the table, an angel leaned over it with his arms, taking in all of the information.

Ariel felt tears come to her eyes. It was _him_. She had been waiting to see him for so long, since her rescue and subsequent exile. Never was a direct word shared, only those emissaries and underlings. No clear memory of his face, nothing but a voice to grasp onto. At the same time, Ariel wanted answers. Four thousand years? What cost did he feel that she owed him for an exile so long? She had sinned greatly, yes. But, seriously? Exile? Would she even like the answers that he might give? Would he even give her an answer? All this spun around in her head.

"Michael." Raphael spoke up. A single word to define a moment. The angel heard, and turned to face the two interlopers.

Michael... the Viceroy of Heaven. The Fist of God. He was the ruler of the Host in their Father's absence, and it showed. His presence sparked like fire and lightning, the power at his disposal electrifying the air around him with the smell of ash and ozone. His black hair was shorn to the skin. Blue eyes, just like hers, were calm and still. He was a warrior underneath that perfectly tailored suit, and the discipline he wielded over himself was like a calling horn. At his hip was belted the sword of justice.

Ariel wanted to hurtle herself towards him, to let tears fall from her eyes at this long-awaited reunion. She wanted to slap him for keeping her away for so long. So, she stood still as best as her vessel would allow.

"Ariel." That deep voice, melodious and charming, caused the bruises on her heart to ache once more. Michael sighed as she stood before him. "It's good to see you, little sister."

"Michael." Ariel forced herself to stand at attention, lowering her head in salute.

Brothers and sister stood like this, awkwardly not moving. They were all waiting for someone else to make the next move.

Raphael broke the silence, summoning a chair in front of the table. "Ariel, please sit. The Council will meet now to discuss your penance."

Ariel looked around. "Where are the others?" She was expecting Naomi to show, at the very least.

"This is a matter for the archangels, Ariel. This is a matter for the three of us. So please, sit." Michael summoned a chair of his own. "We have much to discuss."


End file.
